Gravity
by fadedillusion101
Summary: She hated him with a burning passion, but at the same time, she couldn't get enough of him. reds, r


**Author: **FadedIllusion101

**Title:** Gravity

**Genre: **Romance/Drama

**Pairing: **Reds

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Powerpuff Girls or the Rowdyruff Boys. Nor do I own the song "Gravity" by Sara Bareilles.

**Summary:** Blossom knows her counterpart is no good for her, but she can't help but throw herself back into his awaiting arms. He was like a drug. An addictive drug that she kept running back to, no matter how many times she says she will never look back. Blossom succumbed to her counterpart completely, and she knows there is no way out. R&R.

**Notes:** Told in third person POV. Brick and Blossom are around 21 for this story, and they have normal human features. I suggest listening to the song "Gravity" by Sara Bareilles. Beautiful. If you'd like, watch the contemporary dance to this song on So You Think You Could Dance by Kayla and Kupono. That, too, is beautiful.

**Gravity**

With every passing day, Blossom asks herself why she keeps throwing herself back into her devious counterpart's strong arms. It was like an impulsive action. Something that she couldn't help. Blossom is not dull-witted, she knows when somebody is playing her like a fiddle. And she knows for a fact that the red 'ruff is doing just that. But she doesn't mind. At least she gets to be with him, with his auburn locks, hypnotizing cinnamon scent, and those entrancing and haunting carmine eyes.

But when she's contentedly nestled in his arms, it allows him to break her delicate and fragile heart. The same heart that he has toyed with countless times for who knows how many years. And when her male counterpart is positive that her fickle and brittle heart is crushed and there is no way in the world that it can be sewn back together, he tosses her away like rotten garbage.

Of all people, Blossom would wonder why it was her equivalent that she was so attracted to...addicted to. He was conniving, repulsive, devilish, brutal, manipulative, and an overall horrific person. Yet at the same time, he can be sweet and kind-hearted, even though it wouldn't last long. That was the side of him she supposedly fell in love with.

They were a never a perfect couple, if you would even call them that, they were more like two people who shared intimate moments with one another. Brick and Blossom, that is. Nobody is ever in a relationship with the absolute perfect boyfriend or girlfriend, no matter how many times they say they are. You could save the clichéd couples for the soap operas and movies. The perplexed red "couple" had their ups and they had their downs. Sometimes, Blossom would want to stop time. To be stuck in the moment with Brick would mean the world to her, or so she thought. How naïve and thoughtless she had been.

Blossom would hope and pray at her window, wishing that somebody, anybody would take her away, far away, from the wretched game they call life. She would gaze up at the stars for many hours, begging and pleading, crying and sobbing for someone to take her away. Or at least mend her ill, clichéd, and drained heart. She'd lie in bed, staring longingly at her walls, her slender hands clutching at her aching heart.

Her sisters haven't heard a peep from their eldest sibling about the affair. They'd have normal conversations with her, giggling and smiling over something. But the sensitive blue and temperamental green 'puffs weren't foolish. They knew Blossom's smiles were fake. They weren't confident grins, and they certainly weren't as big and dazzling as they were before. Though Bubbles and Buttercup didn't know what was exactly going on with their sister, they knew something was up. Something bad. That certain something was killing their sisters leadership aurora and normally effervescent spirit. All the two 'puffs knew was that if they ever found the source of pain, per se, they would destroy it immediately.

The petite redhead needed somebody to send her the dark side of the Moon. A place where she can be confined to herself. She'd be able to recall what she thought was so captivating about Brick Jojo. Was it his witty remarks? His sarcastic attitude? Or perhaps his mischievous grin that seemed to be plastered on his chiseled face? Though it would be below freezing and chilling to the bone on that side of the Moon, she would risk it. Anything to get away from him.

Outer space was the farthest place she could get from him. To be alone in the galaxy would mean everything to her. She could soar across the mighty planet Jupiter, dance along the rings of Saturn, cross through the Milky Way, fly over the dry surface of Venus, and twinkle with the shining stars. She could literally sit on top of the Earth...but she wouldn't.

It was too close to him.

The next day, she would feel a smidge better. A smidge. She never had a good nights rest ever since she started "dating" Brick. It was either weeping until she fell into her dreamland-or her personal world of nightmares-or staring motionless at the pastel ceiling until dawn. Though the girl definitely wasn't like the rest of the cheerful citizens of Townsville, she at least kept her head held high. Somewhat. She would wake up-if she had ever fallen asleep in the first place-, grab a coffee, go to the campus, and most likely be assigned with a vermillion projects and piles of homework.

Soon later, she would get all dolled up and trudge over to Brick's apartment. Thoughts in her head that today was the day that everything will change between him and her. They would finally be those perfect movie couples... He would invite her in, quite crudely, she notes each and every time. They would have their fun and play their little adult games. Blossom would fall asleep behind him, her slim arms wrapped around his torso, her face buried in his hair. She saw it as nothing. When you clutch someone like a stuffed animal, it doesn't mean a thing. But if someone were to walk in at that moment-how embarrassing that would be-they would take it as a silent plea. Almost as if to say "please don't leave me."

Brick would leave at the crack of dawn. Somehow someway, he would peal her arms from around him and dash out of his own home. Blossom would stare at his empty side of the bed in disbelief. She was a light sleeper. How did he even manage to break free of her iron hold on him? Blossom considered it one of the seven wonders of the world. The red 'ruff always left a rushed note on the bedside table, but they always made her heart drop thirteen stories.

Sometimes, her eyes would play tricks on her, and she believed it was a love poem written in neat cursive on the table, with flowers beside it and a homemade breakfast. That was exactly what she wanted to see when she awoke from slumber every morning. But her life was not a fairytale. Instead it was a note written in chicken scrawled letters and a packet of cigarettes beside it. The least he could do was write where he was off to and when he was coming back.

She would pull her clothes on slowly, clunk down the stairs like she had a thousand pound weights on her ankles, and blindly walk out the door. She skips breakfast. Brick didn't like to shop-he claims that's the womans job-and who knows how long the milk has sat in his fridge. She was unwholesome as it was. Blossom didn't need a stomach virus slapped on to her board of problems, too.

Oh, that was the life. She was like the walking dead. Literally.

She didn't have that same radiating glow to her skin anymore, it was sickly pale. The violet circles under her eyes frightened most that she spoke to, and they always questioned if she was healthy. Her stunning pink eyes are always glazed over with desperation. The signature floppy bow is long gone, it was somewhere deep in the depths of her disastrous closet. Brick had told her to ditch it, for it was too childish.

That's funny, she never remembered ordering him to toss his hat.

But sometimes, when she was only in the college dorm, she would find her ribbon and place it in its rightful spot on her head. It reminded her when there were no problems in life, except for three rascals zipping around town and causing havoc, the leader of the trio picking on her and giving her ludicrous nicknames like "Bunny Rabbit." But other than that, the bow never had a bad memory associated with it... The only thing that wasn't a dramatic change about her was her gorgeous ginger locks. She couldn't even bear having another change. The auburn mane still held that natural shine, and it was even more luscious than ever. Throughout her entire life, Blossom had never had the doomed thoughts of cutting her cherished hair in her mind.

Besides, Brick said he liked it long.

* * *

Blossom stood on the front step of his porch in downtown Townsville, a dingy place she felt unnerved at. A dainty hand rubbed at her stomach to try to lessen the intensity of the butterflies swarming about. Why they were there, she wasn't so sure. It could be because of the eerie whistling of the winds, the gangs that lurked in every corner you turned, or the fact that her so-called beloved is only mere steps away.

_Something always brings me back to you, _

The dim lights above her flickered on and off rapidly before announcing in a loud buzz that they would retire for the night. Her knuckles hovered over the door before she hesitantly knocked on it. Heavy footsteps and grumbles were heard on the other side of the door before Brick threw it open. He leaned on the door frame, shirtless, his red eyes gleaming down at her, and his fire opal hair tied in a knotty ponytail at the nape of his neck. He jammed his hat on his head after running his hands through his shoulder-blade length hair. His bangs poked out from the adjustment strap of his cap, shadowing his malicious red irises.

Blossom frowned. She wished she could wear her bow.

"Hey babe," he obnoxiously popped his gum. His voice. His husky, deep voice. Everything about him made her knees buckle and her hands shake. But she kept a mellow head.

"Hello," she faked a smile. Blossom has used that hollow smile for years now. The former pink 'puff forgot what it actually felt like to smile. She forgot what if felt like to feel that warm glow radiating off her.

Brick growled, "Well, are you just going to stand around like an idiot or come the fuck in?"

"Oh! Sorry," she mumbled an apology. Blossom brushed past him and walked in, standing on the stained carpet below her.

Brick gestured to the ripped couch, "Take a seat if you want," he shrugged and walked out of the room. She heard cabinets opening and closing, along with the rusty fridge doors, a glass shattering in the kitchen, followed up by an inaudible string of foul language. Heavy footsteps strutted their way towards her. "Here," Brick dangled a glass of wine in front of her face.

She took the wine out of his hands. He sat next to her, not too far away, but not to close either. Brick downed his glass of red wine, the same color of his eyes, Blossom noticed. After some thought, the girl mirrored her counterpart and finished the glass in one gulp. For a few minutes they sat there in silence, tracing their empty glasses and casting side glances at one another. Blossom turned her head and met his eyes that hinted he was about to do something sneaky.

"Fuck being civil," he muttered and threw his empty glass behind him and climbed on top of her, kissing her passionately, hungrily. He brushes her bangs out of her face and cups her cheek lovingly. Her hands are entangled in his copper hair, his are roaming around her body now, traveling over forbidden places. She lets him. He's done it many times before. Brick sits up, bringing her with him, and carries her by her thighs to the bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot.

And, for a regretful moment, Blossom foolishly believed that he was in love with her, too.

_it never takes too long._

Blossom woke up without him next to her, the sun creeping its way into her room from the closed blinds. It was expected, but it still burned a hole through her heart. She looked beside her on the beside table. There was the crinkled note, messily folded and carelessly thrown on the table without another word. She picked it up and scanned it, crumbling it to a wad in her hand. The message had said something along the lines of how fun the night before was and how he'll be waiting for her later on, and a reminder to lock the door before she leaves.

Blossom tries and gets him to stay, to just leave everything else behind and pay attention to her. Just her. Before they fall asleep at night, she would whisper the word 'stay.' Brick would chuckle and kiss her neck again, most likely leaving another hickey for her to cover up. And in the morning, she would remember that chuckle of his. The bitterness of it lingering in the air around her, ringing in her ears, creating an even heavier burden in her heart, that at this point, is dragging across the floor behind her.

That chuckle always meant 'no.'

_No matter what I say or do, _

Blossom traced the ruffles in the sheets, remembering how he felt beside her. The warmth from his muscular body pressed against her fragile one. Her pink irises close as a single tear dripped out. She knows that for the rest of her life, she will not be able to break free from Brick's strong grasp. Blossom succumbed to her counterpart completely. He was like a drug. An addictive drug that she kept running back to, no matter how many times she says she will never look back. She'll always be addicted to him, every day for the rest of her damned life, she will be addicted to her equivalent.

_I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone._

The girl remembered how gentle he was last night, the way he caressed her and kissed her was magical. But in the end, he wasn't gentle or loving, he was a sinister, demented monster waiting for her to swivel around and sprint back to him.

His touches were numb, they tingled on her skin like a butterfly's wings fluttering on the tip of your nose. Brick's calloused hands would drift everywhere on her, but she felt nothing but that same tickling sensation bubbling from the touch.  
_  
You hold me without touch,_

Brick wasn't the one keeping Blossom attached to him by the hip, she knew that. It was her. The redhead always becomes deeply depressed when she admits that, and then, there comes the crying, and the sobbing, and the wishing on stars childishly.

_you keep me without chains._

All Blossom wanted was a life with Brick. A life where they could be happy, like the rest of the people in Townsville. A life where their relationsip wasn't so complicated. A life where they wouldn't have to worry about silly things, like worrying about what her partner thinks of the floppy bow on top of her head. Sometimes, when she walks around his house, she imagines herself sitting on the ratty old couch, an infant cradled to her chest. Running around her would be exact replicas of Brick and herself, except younger. And beside her sat Brick himself, his head on her shoulder as he watched the T.V. But, she knew better than to dream of unrealistic dreams. Blossom wasn't going to bring her hopes up, only to have them crash down around her again.

_I never wanted anything so much,  
than to drown in your love and not feel your rain._

Tears from the corner of her rosy eyes fell down her face, slowly creeping their way down to her chin, and dripping on her bare collarbone. She hated it when she cried. And she cried far too often. One little whimper squeezes through her mouth, and that one whimper must've caused an uprising. Blossom was on Brick's bed, curled into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably. She always believed crying would rid her of terrible thoughts, but that wasn't true. She hates living this way, walking around with a heavy heart hoistered over her shoulder. But no matter how much she hates her life, she can't seem to direct that burning hatred on Brick.

"Leave me alone, Brick! Please, leave me alone!" She sobbed. He needed to set her free, like someone unlocking a cage for a bird. A thought passes through her mind, and she realizes the sad truth that she is the one that keeps running back for more. Not Brick. He couldn't care less about her. About any of this.

_Set me free, leave me be,_

Blossom slowly rolls out of the bed, her cheeks dampened and her eyes puffy. She stumbles her way to the grimy bathroom and looks at her zombie-like reflection in the mirror. More droplets fall. The redhead doesn't want to be roped any further into this complicated relationship. It's killing her on the inside. Killing her spirit. She doesn't want to be wrapped around his finger any tighter. Blossom wasn't like this. Where's the leader everyone knew?

_I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity._

"She's still here..." Blossom trailed off, tracing her jaw line, where hickeys marked her pastel skin. Her thoughts begin to taunt her, saying that if the leader was still present, she wouldn't even be in this complication. But...Blossom could feel that leader. Somewhere inside of her burned a flame, a flame that holds her leadership aurora and confidence. She'll make that flame burn brighter one of these days, and she'll finally have the strength to run the opposite direction from her powerful addiction.

_Here I am and I stand so tall,  
just the way I'm supposed to be._

But Brick is still in the picture, and he is stomping on the flame to completely distinguish it so that it will never burn bright as it did once before. He has corrupted her. He has made her into this...this _thing _that she is today. Brick is all over her, creeping and crawling, ridding herself of good thoughts and happy smiles. She was no longer the 'everything nice' of the trio, and she vaguely wondered, if she ever was.

_But you're on to me and all over me..._

She glared at the ceiling. The only reason he "loved" her was because she was like a delicate flower, and if you stomp on it, all the petals will rip off and glide away in the breeze. Brick "loved" her so he can have the satisfactory of breaking somebody's pure soul, of crushing their once effervescent spirit, and killing them on the inside.

_You loved me 'cause I'm fragile,_

This entire time, Blossom thought that she was still strong. That the flame still burned inside of her, and as the days pass, the flame would burn stronger until it spread like a forest fire. But...that wasn't the truth. She was fragile. And as she looked into the mirror, in this dirty and dusty mirror, she knew Brick distinguished that flame long ago.

_when I thought that I was strong._

Blossom never took the time to realize how bad this thing had gotten. And things will continue to spiral downhill. There was no was possible that she can ever be the old Blossom Utonium. The redhead falls to her knees, clutching at her aching, fickle, and heavy heart and sobbing until her throat felt raw.

She was addicted to her counterpart, Brick Jojo. Addicted. And he felt absolutely nothing for her, Blossom Utonium. She was just a pawn in this complicated game of his. She was just another name in his head, another girl he had stripped of her innocence, another girl that keeps on running back into his awaiting arms...

* * *

_Something always brings me back to you,_

Blossom tentatively stepped to him, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest, pounding feverishly in her ears, just aching to burst free. Her rose-pink eyes were glazed over with sheer desperation, just as they were the night before. And all the other nights before that one.

His back was turned to her, but when he heard tiny footsteps, he swiveled around, coming face to face with a petite pink girl. He grinned devilishly and strutted towards her, scooping her fragile form up in his toned arms and pressing his lips to hers passionately, hungrily.

_it never takes too long._

* * *

**A/N: **

**This was by far one of the most emotional pieces I've ever written. I just loved the idea of Blossom begging to break free from his clutches, but she knows she can't walk away that easily. For anyone who's ever been addicted to something, this is for you. R&R.**


End file.
